


Postcards & Sunset Pictures

by texastoasted



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Speeding Bullet (Team Fortress 2), in this house we churn out cute fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 19:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texastoasted/pseuds/texastoasted
Summary: Scout comes up with a plan to share a bed with Sniper for a couple nights. It isn't that complicated, but it serves its purpose.





	Postcards & Sunset Pictures

**Author's Note:**

> this is for antlersev on tumblr, the winner of my 1k follower fic raffle!! i had a lot of fun writing it :,)

“Hey, Snipes,” Scout began, awfully casual, setting his folded arms on the back of Sniper’s chair. “Is it cool if I bunk with you tonight?”

The hairs on the back of Sniper’s neck rose like hundreds of vigilant prairie dogs, and a hot flush seeped across his cheeks. There had been, over the past few months, a definite increase in flirting here and there, from the both of them. But this was definitely a leap, one he hadn’t been expecting. Scout was asking him, and not telling him, which Sniper was grateful for, because the idea of someone in his personal space for an entire day usually made his hackles raise unpleasantly. At least he was alone, at lunch, and Scout had said  _ bunk _ , not  _ sleep _ -

Scout lowered his head, his breathing puffing into Sniper’s ear. “Yo. You hear me?”

“Yeah. Is there a reason-”

“What, I gotta have a reason? But yeah, there’s a reason. I kind of spilled the stinky gun cleaner all over my floor that I borrowed from Soldier. I cleaned it up, but the smell won’t come out for a few days at least.”

“Oh,” Sniper answered, surprised. He wasn’t entirely oblivious to Scout’s flirting methods that were sometimes entirely out of left field, but it was still sometimes hard to tell what was going on in his brain. “Yeah, I s’pose.”

“Thanks, man! I’ll get my stuff! You have power in there, right? For my record player?”

The runner bolted down the hallway. “Oi, you’re not moving in!” Sniper shouted after him, but was met only by the rattle of the refrigerator, as if it was chuckling at him.

Sniper headed back to his camper after lunch, and as he crunched across the gravel to where his camper was parked, he had almost forgotten about what he’d agreed to until he saw Scout. He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, his worn suitcase clutched in one hand, pillow in the other. He brightened when he saw Sniper and waved eagerly, as if the other mercenary could somehow not see him.

“It’s small,” Sniper warned him.

Scout didn’t say anything at first when he was let in, and Sniper’s palms began to become slick with sweat, watching the other mercenary rub his chin and scan the walls. He’d tacked up a few pictures from solitary sunsets, a peeling calendar, things like that that were a slightly sentimental afterthought to all the places he’d been, but suddenly Sniper felt the need to explain every postcard. He kept the place clean because there wasn’t really any other choice. If there was stuff on the floor, he wouldn’t be able to get from one end of the camper to the other. Sniper at least felt a little pride at that, that he hadn’t been caught with his pants down and the place looking like a trash heap.

“It’s swell,” Scout said honestly, a touch of awe in his voice. “Little kitchen and everything.”

“Can’t beat the view of the sunset from the roof, too,” Sniper offered, scratching the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll get to finding the keys to m’room in the base. Think they’re somewhere.”

“What for?” Scout asked, offended. “You think I’m smelly too or something?”

“No, Scout, you don’t smell. But the bed’s tiny. It’s only meant for one.”

“I’m small, Snipes. C’mon. It’ll be fine. I’ve never seen you sleep in there, the mattress is gonna be all dusty and gross.”

He knew that Scout was right, and Scout knew that he was right, but all Sniper was thinking about was Scout saying  _ I’m small _ , and Sniper’s eyes had gravitated to his long, toned, runner’s legs, wondering if his feet would stick off the edge of the bed like his own did, a little. His own legs materialized in his mind’s eye, tangled with the tanned ones, late into the afternoon with nowhere the legs had to be.

Scout had been quieter than usual at dinner, and underneath his hat, Sniper blanched, moving his corn around on his place with a stiffly-clutched fork. There could be a million reasons, and that was the problem, he would spend an undetermined amount of time ruminating over what he could have said or done. He had wanted some precious, private space, and had gone off to clean his gun for a while before dinner. It was nothing against Scout, but he had worried that the runner felt that way. They were different, and that was admittedly what was refreshing about hanging out with the other mercenary, but Scout didn’t seem to feel the need to recharge like he did.

“Hey,” Sniper said out of the corner of his mouth, reaching into the fridge for one of the six-packs he knew was in the back. “Want to watch the sunset on top of the camper?”

Scout, who was elbow-deep in soap suds, gave Sniper a gleeful look. “Yeah, sure! Hey, Demo! Will you take over the dishes? I’ll take your turn the next two weeks.”

Demo waved him on and mumbled something unintelligible, and Scout stuck to his side like glue as they left the base, practically hopping in place like a pogo stick. He kept quiet the whole way inside the camper, where they fetched the blankets off the bed, and up the ladder to the roof, where two folding chairs lay. It was, admittedly, one of Sniper’s favorite activities, but every time he eyed Scout in his peripheral vision it became more difficult to relax.

“You can talk, y’know,” he remarked.

“It’s really beautiful,” Scout burst out, but there was genuine awe in his voice.

“Yeah. It is.”

“I just don’t want to talk too much. Annoy you or something.”

“You don’t annoy me, mate. On the contrary.”

There was a pause, in which Sniper wanted to turn his neck to see the expression on Scout’s face. It had been deliberate, his words, although they were coming less carefully the more he drank.

“Well, good,” Scout said, in his defiant, last-word way. “I was real excited to spend time with you.”

It was his turn to feel awfully warm. “You can, anytime. Awfully convenient of that spill, eh?”

Scout didn’t say anything, and then Sniper did look at him, and took in the half-guilty, shit-eating grin that was spread across the other mercenary’s face.

“Was that even an accident?” Sniper objected, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You crafty little bugger!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Scout said in defense, raising his arms up above the blanket and sloshing some of his beer over the side of the camper. “I got you to sleep with me pretty easy. That’s a new record.”

“Oh, I’ve slept with you already, have I?”

Scout’s smile faltered, his heart thrumming like a bird inside his chest. He lowered his beer. There was a new undercurrent to Sniper’s voice, and it thrilled him from the roots of his hair to his toes. Under the blanket that was draped over both of them, Scout’s fingers wormed their way into Sniper’s lap to hold his hand. 

“In my grand master plan, yeah, maybe.”

“Play your cards right and we’ll see,” Sniper said, and they looked at each other with the last remaining light before day dipped below the horizon, evening sun dripping down their noses, heavy with the weight of shared, cheap beer.


End file.
